Harper's Weekly 1862 part 4 of 4

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HARPER'S WEEKLY. Tbe bkme liridgu SCENES ON THE BATTLE-FIELD OF ANTIETAM.—FKOM PHOTOGRAPHS BY MR. M. B. BEADY.—[SEE PAGB 6C3.] !
C66 HAEPEKS WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 18,1862. OCTOBER 18,1862.] HAEPEE'S WEEKLY. 667 WAITING. WHEN he comes back, all glorious, With the love-light in his eye, From the battle-field victorious, Who'll be happier then than II See, the big arm-chair is waiting, Vacant still, in its old place— Time! press quickly on the hours Till I see his pleasant face! lie was too young, they told me, To march against the foe; Tet wheu his country needed aid Ilia mother bade him go! Twere meet slaves should tremble Whom tyrants hold in thrall; Bnt my boy was a freeman born, lie went at Freedom's call. My small weak hand would waver The shortest sword to bear; But he stands steady in the ranks, And holds his musket there. My faint heart would falter The battle-ground to see; But his is strong in Freedom's might, He fights for her and me. I am watching and waiting, As mothers watch and wait Whose sons are in the army now, And it is growing late; My life's past its morning, It's near sunset iu the sky— Oh I I long once more to clasp him Iu my arms before I die. Yet farther off the army goes— He will return no more, Till onr glorious flag is free again To float o'er sea and shore. Where'er it waved in days gone by, Its folds again shall rest, From the depths of the lowest valleys To the highest mountain crest. And he, my boy, my darling, The pride of my old heart! Where'er his place may be, I know He will fulfill his part. Not until the war is over Shall we meet in fond cmbAce— Time! press swiftly on the honrs Till I see his pleasant face! HOW THE ENGLISH PLUNDERED • DELHI, IN 1857. [Toe October number of ITarprr'l Naparini contained an article giving eon» aceonnt of the atroeUlea perpetrated by Uw Eagllah In the euppmalon of the Sepoy " Rebellion." Tttt London CvrnMU Mogaztru for the eame month con- Ulna an aecoont of the Plunder of Delhi, which we repro duce with alight curtailment. It li * personal narrative of the proceeding* of a tingle Individual. "•' 4>-i|,), put in a veto, and the sacrilege (from a native- point of view) was not committed. It was decided that the wealth of Delhi should be digged out of the bowels of the by no means innocent city; and, as Iu Australia, the prize-agents conferred licenses on officers, in whose integrity they trusted (I, my friend, was one), to dig for treasure in their behalf. All property discovered was to be brought to the prize-office, in cue of Uw chief streets, a place to describe which would take more time than I can spare now, and the diggers were to gtt a per-cent- age upon their " treasure-trove." The diggings promised to be profitable. Labor was cheap and abundant—the only difficulty was to scent out the spoil. I occnpled a large native house In "a central situation," which I had taken possession of shortly after our entry. I planted " touts" at the door, and gave it to be understood that I was a man of great influence with the Government, and of large, resources, who was ready to pay liberally for inform ation as to the whereabouts of buried valuables. At first I did not prosper; the inhabitants were slowly returning to their dwellings, trembling and suspicious, more anxious just then about their necks than any thing else. Our troops, white and black, particularly the latter, were busy looking for plun der. However, after many days' waiting, a change came in my fortnnes. As I watched the crowd hurrying by one day, a tall gaunt Sikh, with hun gry eyes and troubled air, made me a sign. I hur ried out at once. lie walked aside from the malu stream of pedestrians, camels, and bullock-carts, and inquired whether my Highness-ship would make him a promise of secrecy. On my eagerly aseenting, he told me that he had a piece of jewelry to sell, and that the price was one thousand rupees cash; he added, further, that if I wished to deal, I must bring the money that evening to a place he named without the Cashmere'gate, on the canton ment rood, where he promised to meet me. I scraped together, with some difficulty, five hundred rupees, and went to the spot at the ap pointed hour. I found the Sikh awaiting me. lie produced a frontlet, or forehead-ornament, of large emeralds and diamonds, with a great central ruby, all most clumsily and loosely fixed together. He declined to say how he came by it. " Ijool bt-thui," " plunder undoubtedly," he said, with a grin. I was fascinated by the glitter of the genn, but, hap pily, having only the above sum, I told him I could give no more. After demur and remonstrance, he consented to let me have it, and 'I returned home satisfied that I had made one successful coup. I rejoiced in the possession of the Sikh's booty for many months, and proudly did I display It one day to a London jeweler, to be told, w my horfW", and to the destruction of mighty air-castles, that the stones were pierced and flawed every one, and that their united value did not amount to the sum the ornament had coat me. Shortly after my bargain I was riding one even ing about sunset through the " Dnreeba," a wind- Ing street, and the most picturesque in Delhi, when I saw a scantily-dressed native of the lowest class, skulking, with a bundle in his hand, in the shade of the shop-roofs, evidently trying to escape my notice. I rode over to him, demanded his business in loud tones, and drawing my sword at the same time threatened him with Instant execution. He became sallow, his knees tottered, he muttered some indistinct prayer for the " Kumpanee £aha- door let lama"—" Mercy from the omnipotent Com pany," and fled, leaving his bundle behind him. I took it to my house, and found, tied up in a sin gularly unclean cloth, a piece of Cashmere silk em broidery, worth at least jC20 in England, a hand ful or two of parched pease, a hall of tobacco pre pared for the "chillum," a lot of cowries or shell- money, and three annas four pie in copper. It was clear that he had stolen the only valuable article in the list, and it was equally clear that it had be come mine more or IMS lawfully. Next morning (it never rains but it pours) I re ceived a confidential communication from my table servant, as he stood by my bedside, tea-cap In hand; he had met an old friend in the vegetable- market, who said he knew of an old woman who was heard to say that, in a certain house, near the Ajmere gate, there was a sum of money buried In a ghurra, or earthen water-jar, not less, at all events, than 6000 rupees, £600. Some tedious negotiation followed this straightforward statement, but I was finally led to the place, followed by my coolies with digging-tools. A closely-shut door was opened after violent threats, and I got into a small dark ened room on the ground-floor, ill-smelling snd filthy, with but one article of furniture, a native charpoy, or bedstead, whereon lay an old man, de clared by an attendant hag, probably his betreyer, to be bedridden and very ill. Amidst shrieks of pretended pain from Us occu pant, the bedstead was moved to one side, in accord ance with previous instructions, and the coolies commenced to dig. The ground had evidently been disturbed not long before, and soon a clink, as of metal against pottery, was beard, and the ghurra was lifted ont, with a cloth tied over the top—not without some difficulty, as it was of the largest size made. My clumsy assistants managed to break the vessel in setting it down, and amidst tri umphant shouts from all the spectators except the old man, who shrieked feable prayere for pity to the "sirkor," or Government, as represented' by me on the occasion, a stream of silver gushed from the Interior. Denouncing my workers as the off spring of swine, fit only for Jehennam, and not for the service of a " Protector of the Poor," and " Cherisher of the Oppressed," such as I, I or- dersd one of them to divest himself of his only gar ment (some yards of coarse cotton stuff, wound first round the waist, and then round the semi-shaven scalp). We tied our ghurra up in this, swung it on a strong bamboo, and carried It oft*. The value I found to be very nearly equal to the sum prom ised, alUu rnpte and eight auna pieces. My next take was a noble one—the tpofia opima of looting; it struck me that it would be a good plan to try the earth in the vicinity of the jewelers' shops, or, rather, where the jewelers had lived be fore the siege. I knew Delhi pretty well in former times, and the habitat of the different merchants of nets. At gun-fire, one fine morning in October (delightful the early morning in the beginning of the cold weather in the northwest Is), I set forth, attended by my six coolies, with the Hindoo equiva lents of spades, shovels, and picks on their shoul ders, taking with me th» Ottrland Mail, a cheroot- box stuffl-d with very fair number twos, half a dozen of soda-water, and half a bottle of John Ex- shaw " Number one." I struck into a circuitous lane near the canal, leading from the " Loll Sur- rak," or red street, to the liegum Sumroo's garden (Dyce Sumbre's Begum), and selected, for my first trial, a ruinous buffalo-dairyman's shed, which stood (or tottered) close by a dirty little hut, then de serted, where one of the chief gold-workers of the place had formerly flourished. I had excavated for a little time without success, when an acute coolie, whose intelligence I afterward rewarded with four annas, sixpence-halfpen ny, over and above his lawful wages, suggested a mine under the party- wnll. It was easily made, for the wall had no foundation, and was built of " kuccha" or sun-dried bricks of clay, quite friable from sge. I read the English news with as much iutcrest as I could, while my men were rooting; but I was soon inter rupted by a heavy fall of rotten bricks, a shout from my coolies, and the apparition on the other side of the tumbled wall of my jolly friend Pintle, of the Royal Bengal fire-workers, mattock in hand, with his great red cheeks covered with dust and sudor, his "khakee" tunic dirt-colored indeed and wet through with perspiration, bis whole appear ance like a navvy's in a solah topee. The rascal was a licensed digger like myself, but he worked alone, on principle; and there were, in consequence, even uglier stories about him than about myself, and that's saying a good deal. We cried simul taneously, " Halves with you 1" and struck a part nership on the spot. He knew Delhi better than I did, and worked, as I afterward found, on more scientific data; but my sources of information were better than hie, and he acknowledged that solitary digging was an error The natives began to clear away the rubbish, and while I watched them, Pin tle, pulling a small chisel out of his pocket, tested knowingly every likely-looking brick in the jewel er's wall. " I shouldn't wonder at ull," he said, as he went sround tapping, " if the swag were here." He had scarcely spoken when, by a neat wrist-turn, he extracted a brick which was a trifle more firmly set than its neighbors, and thrust his chisel into the cavity. "Something soft at all events," he whispered, peering in eagerly. A little skillful scooping produced a small dirty rag tied in a knot. I "lent him a knife:" the rag contained about a dozen uncut sapphires and diamonds of unques tionable value, and a splendid "cat's-eye"—one of those gorgeous dusky orange opals, with as many changes of color in different lights as a ca- meleon, a real "tslisman stone." AVe looked at each other and sighed; there was at least two hun dred pounds' worth of gems in that rag, and there were two of us. Pintle recovered hie presence of mind first. "They" (i.«., the prize-agents) "ought to give us one each," he said. " Dig on, yon worthless demons," I said, turn ing savagely on the coolies who had suspended their operations to watch mm: so they shoveled away with vehement expressions denoting zeal in the service of my High Mightiness-ship. I may have wished Pintle down the Grand Trunk Road with the "clearing" column; he possibly wished me in Jericho. We soon got down on the mine I had com menced under the fallen wall; and though the mine led to nothing, yet we found indications on one side of recently broken soil, and finally, be neath the rude platform where the unlucky jewel er used to sit, five feet under the ground, came upon the rest of his treasure: viz., a braes betel- box such as natives use, called a Faun-dan, a quaint ebony casket with joinings of silver, a bale of goods tied carefully in gunny, a " degchee" or copper cooking utensil with a loose lid, and hslf a dozen brazen dishes and " lotos," or drinking ves sels, which latter became our coolies' share of the spoil, and made happier dogs of them than our find ings made of us, then or since. We took our booty off to my quarters; the prize- office was close at hand to be sure, yet we could not deny ourselves the small gratification of'being the first to investigate the products of the lode. But it may be asked, how was it that the owners of articles of great value such as gems, so portable and so easily concealable on the person, did not carry them away when they fled ? This question is easily answered. The sepoys were really mas ters of the city and its inhabitants for four clear months; the old king was but nominally supreme: they levied black-mail, in money and kind, from the shroffs and bunyahs, the bankers, tradesfolk, and food-sellers, during that time without mercy. If any who were known to be possessed of means pleaded poverty, the sepoys, under no restraint, searched their houses and their persons, and even beat and tortursd them to force them to disgorge. Circumstantial diariea of the events within the wslls during the rfege were kept by more than one native of the place, which were afterward trans lated and published in India, and in which were recorded instances after instances of this: the con sequence was, that the jewelers and merchants had no resource from the first but to Conceal their goods as artfully as they could, and the valuables the Delhi diggers exhumed were originally buried, in order that they might not fall into the hands of the mutineers. The haul was a grand one that morning. The betel-box was full of gems in all stages of prepa ration for setting—.rubies, onyxes, jaspers, pearls of some price, topazes, gold stones, and pebbles of minor value, such, aa abound in all the shops of the Delhi Jewelers. The copper cooking utensil con tained onr poor friend's working tools (clumsy they looked, but marvelous is the work native gold smiths turn out with them), and studs, bracelets, and brooches in gold and silver filigree, of nntive and English pattern, some of theAnuer very taste ful: there were also gold ami WfKt clftiins half finished, lumps of unworked precious metal, semi- moulded armlets, nose, ear, and ankle ornaments for native ladies, a few gold mohurs and other coins, in that battered-looking skillet. The ebonv casket we were rather disappointed in. Wo had some trouble in bursting the lock, to find only an oM Koran, illuminated and richly bound to be sure, but then entirely out of proper- tion as to value we thought. It fetched a high price at the prize sale, for there are book maniacs even in India who are as particular about bits of Arabic scroll and the ctTrves of the reversed calip, raphy of the Eastern reed as their brethren at homo are about Akline imprimatur and impossible blurk letter. One enthusiastic gentleman got hold of a • piece of goods in the Jurama Musjid, silk or cotton, written all over with sacred sayings from the Ko ran : this he pronounced to be nothing less than the shirt of the Prophet, and advertised it for sale in the Delhi Gazette at the low figure of five thou sand rupees. I did not hear the name of the pur chaser. Our eager hands and knives made short work of the outer covering of the bale. Its con tents'filled us with Admiration: purdahs or door- hangings of crimson velvet, four yards long and nearly half as wide, with cords and tassels of gold lace and double bullion, the whole stiffiy embroid ered with golJ in arabesque patterns—quite new, and evidently made to order for some shrine: they had suffered somewhat from the damp of the hiding- place, but were still very gorgeous. There were shawls, and waistbands, and turban", beautifully embroidered with the highly-dyed silk for which Delhi is famous—chogas or mantles from Cashmere, of the exquisitely ftic Pushmeena fabric, with deep selvages of gold-lace work, or needle-made shawl- pattern of the brilliant colors, which, it is said, no dyes can produce save those mixed with the water of the rushing Jhelum. Then there were daggers and stilettoes uf strange shapes, made of blue wave- lined steel from the country west of Cabool, the qualities of the metal, and the name and residence of its artificer cut upon the blades in beautiful Per sian characters, the handles inlaid with gold and ivory, the sheaths and scabbards of soft wood cov ered with crimson velvet and gold lace; there were shields too, of light wood and leather, covered with green or crimson velvet and heavily bossed with gold work—all ornamental armor for noble natives on state occasions. The place we were fortunate enough to discover had, it was clear, been selected by a family of different trades to conceal their stocks in. My friend Pintle and I, after bath, breakfast, and cheroot, returned to the house for further ex ploration; but we found two Ghoorkas (with their khookries on) and a particularly ferocious-looking Belooch in the pit, scraping briskly, and we did not consider it advisable to claim our right of priority. After this I made no mighty coup. I had many a hard day's work, and so had Pintle, clearing out choked-up wells, probing sewers, stripping stair cases, and scraping oft'room-plaster; but we gained hardly any thing to recompense our toils: all that we did gain the prize-agents got, and so we said, but nobody believed us. Afterward, at the auc tion, Pintle and I purchased a few little things we admired; our friends said it was a clever " dodge," but that it didn't take them in. DUGGAN AND HIS GANG. THOUGH It is now sixty years ago, there are travelers yet alive who, going by stage-coach from Cork to Tralee, have seen the eight skulls that were stuck on spikes on the roof of the market- house in the town of Macroom, in the barony of Muskerry. People did not like to talk abort the skulls. When questioned, the country people said "they were the murderers of Colonel Hutchinson;" but no more could be got out of them. The skulls were a source of disgust and horror to the inhabitants of Macroom, and to all the country round. They had not been subjected to any previous process, as was usually the case with the horrible remains of trait ors' heads and members, ordered to be exposed. These heads had been put over the market-house at Macroom just as they were struck from the bodies to which they belonged. Above one of the heads there was nailed a hand, severed at the wrist, and the eight of the half- bleached skulls was hideous. They cowed the people, and struck more fear of the law into their hearts than as many regiments of dragoons. That part of the country, for many years after the event that gave rise to this spectacle, was the most peaceable district in Ireland. The fate of the "murderers of Mr. Hutchinson" was a very effect ive terror to evil-doers. But who were thev? and what was the story ? Here it is: for though peo ple would not tell it, it is on record in the criminal trials. Mr. Hntchinson was an amiable and worthy man, who lived at a house called Codrum, about a mile out of the market-town of Macroom. It stood in its own plantation, on a rising ground, with a lawn before it, dotted with ornamental trees, and adorned with fair beds of flowers. Colonel Hutchinson was a man of property; he belonged to what was called a " new family," but he was much respected by the neighboring gentry; the poor people were fond of him, for he was an excellent and charitable man. One morning, early in the summer of the vear 1800, the neighborhood was thrown into commo tion by the report that Colonel Hutchinson had been murdered in the night. Some laborers pass ing to their work saw the large kitchen window, in the front of the house, completely smashed. Going up to learn what had happened, they found the shutter broken in, the front door open, and the body of Colonel Hutchinson lying dead and stiff at the foot of the stairs, with a wound through his heart. Shot dead, as was supposed. None of the inmates could give any account of the matter. Miss Hutchinson could only sav that sTie had been awakened by the noise of the kitchen window being smashed in, and the sound of several persons rushing into the house. In her fright she left her bed and hid behind a large press, up stairs in a garret, and had not ventured out till long after all was quiet. Keen, the man-servant, stammered and looked exceedingly guilty, but could give nt, information. All the neighboring gentry belonged to the yeomanry corps—Cotholks as well as Prot estants—and they bound themselves by an oath not to rest until the murderers wert discovered. A reward of three hundred pounds was offered for any information that conld lead to their de tection. One remarkable thing was, that although a handsome looking-glass had been broken, and some furniture pulled about, nothing had been stolen. Suspicion at last fell on a man named Malachi Duggan. He was a farmer of the better class; superior to the common peasantry in educa tion and intelligence, as well as in position. He bore, however, a very bad character. In appear ance he was the type of a ruffian; of gigantic stat ure, and strong in proportion; his countenance was brutal and ferocious, with a dash of cunning which made it more repulsive; oddly enough, he was in great request in the neighborhood as a juryman! People who had a cause in court need to bribe him to be on the jury, and if he were satisfied with the amount, he, possibly, also bribed the summoning officer. He then always either tired out, or bullied, or over-persuaded, his fellow-jurors. When the officers went to hie house, accompanied by several magistrates, they found him at home. He made no attempt to escape, but treated the charge lightly. One of the magistrates advised him to give orders about his farm, as he would be away a long time. " Sure, it will not be more than a couple of days at the furthest," said he. " It will be more than two days, or two weeks, or two years," said the magistrate. Malachi ehrngged hie shoulders, ordered bis nag to be saddled, and be cut a long willow switch for the purpose of urging on his horse. He did not seem to attend to any thing passing round him, hut rode on in silence, with the end of this rod in hie mouth. He continued to bite it, and when he and his escort arrived at Macroom, a distance of only three miles, the willow switch was bitten to within an inch of the end. He had been consider ing. He offered to turn informer if he might be assured of the three hundred pounds offered for re ward. His offer was accepted, and Malachi Dug gan stated that on the night in question fourteen men, under his orders, assembled, and went in a body to attack Codrum, with the intention of plun dering whatever they could carry off, but without any design to harm Colonel Hutchinson. Colonel Hutchinnon was sitting ftp reading as usual, and, on bearing the noise of the window smashed and the shutter broken in, he immediately came down stairs to see what was the matter. He found the hall filled with men, some of whom were armed; among them he saw his own game-keeper, named M'Carthy, and incautiously exclaimed: "Areyou here, M'Carthy?" Malachi Duggan, the captain of the gang, at once called out: " M'Carthy, do your duty!" The game-keeper- raised his gun and fired. Col onel Hutchinson fell dead. The eight of hie dead body struck them with panic, and they hastily left the house, taking nothing with them. Malachi Duggan gave the names of all the men who bad been with him. The magistrates and gentry im mediately began a strict search, but the criminals, as eoon as it was rumored that Malachi had turned informer, took to the hills and concealed them selves—all the country people, of course, •assisting and aiding them. The County of Cork was at that period under martial law, a*d the Cork yeomanry were a formidable body. They were determined that the murderers of Colonel Hutchinson should not escape, and they hunted down all the peasants suspected of giving them shelter. One day they were on the track of some of the murderers; but the inhabitants of a mountain hamlet had aided their escape. Prompt measures were taken on the spot. The cabins were searched; every article of furniture was dragged out, piled in a heap, and then set on fire—the wretched owners standing round, not daring to say a word. One of the sol diers, separated from the ranks, searching an out house, found a feather-bed carefully concealed. He was dragging this poor bed to share the fate of the rest, when the captain, a man of humanity, cried out: "No,gentlemen, these wretched people have suf fered enough; let us leave them at least this bed." As he spoke, a ball whizzed past, grazing his ear. Turning round, a puff of white smoke was seen over the brow of a hill behind them. Imme diately he and two other gentlemen galloped to the spot, feeling sure they had come npon the criminals. They, however, found only two peasants, who had no connection with Duggan or his gang. They belonged to the village, and, exasperated at seeing the destruction of their goods, bad fired the shot. They were immediately seized, and dragged to the prison of Macroom. They were tried, not for firing on the yeomanry, but for helping and hiding the murderers, and they were condemned to be trans ported. Their trial and sentence mado a great sen sation. When they were on board the hulks, nil their relations, and friends came in a body to the court-house, and offered, if these two men were re stored to their families, that the whole country should join to hunt dowu the murderers and give them up to justice. After some consideration fcjis offer was accepted. The men were pardoned, sent back to their -ernes, and the people of the connty began to keep their word. The murderers now led the live: of hunted wolves, and endured fearful hardships. Winter was approaching, and they did not dare to enter a cabin; every one was against them. Two con trived to escape to America; but the others won dered about among the mountains of Glenfesk, hiding under rocks, not daring to kindle a fire. At length the peeple pretended to become friendly to them: some villagers invited them to come to a supper in a barn, where they declared they would be safe. The men, more than half-famished, came down from the mountains, bnt refused to enter any building lest they should be surprised; they sat down on the ground and began to eat voraciously. The peasants fell upon them, disarmed them, and gave them np to justice. The trial came on. Mala chi Duggnn swore to them all, gave a circumstan tial account of the murder, and seemed utterly cal lous to his own infamy. One of the men was his own cousin, named John Duggan, a stone-mason. This man was not destitute of the family cunning; he declared that Colonel Hutchinson had not been shot at all; that if the body could be seen, it would be found that the wound had been made by a sharp instrument, and that the end of his chisel would fit the wound; therefore all that Malachi swore about discharging the gun was a lie. This circumstan tial statement rather shook the jury. The body was disinterred and examined. Three bullets and a brace of slugs were found behind the heart. This at once settled the matter. The prisoners were all sentenced to be hanged, and their heads to be ex posed on spikes round the market-house—M'Car thy, the game-keeper, as the man who fired the shot, was to have his hand struck off and affixed above his head. The prisoners were to be executed at Macroom, and they were conveyed from Cork in an open cart: the hangman—a hideous person—clothed for the occasion in bright green, with a belt on which was printed, in large letters, " Erin go Bragh"—to show what Erin go Bragh principles led to. The priests were removed from the criminals when they had performed about half the journey, in order that the people, seeing them die without the consolation of religion, might be struck with greater awe. One of the criminals was quite a young boy, cousin to the game-keeper. He pro tested he was innocent, and that the worst thing he had ever done was stealing some hens' eggs from his mother. It was the general impression that he was innocent, but that Duggan had sworn against him, in order not to leave one of the family alive, who might take revenge upon him. When the cart and the wretched men arrived at a grove of trees at the entrance of Macroom, they were halted. A beam was laid between two trees, and two of the men were hanged, one at each end: their companions looking on, and the people standing by in silence. When all had suffered, the hangman proceeded to carry out the remainder of the sen tence, though even his callous feelings revolted against it, and he required copious draughts of whisky to carry him through it. The sight of eight heads struck a great deal more terror into the people than the execution. As for Malachi Duggan, the captain of the gang and treacherous informer, he received the three hundred pounds promised, and returned to his farm. The neighboring gentry endeavored to countenance him, but he was quite brutalized, and had no feel ings of shame. The first day on which he appeared in Macroom he looked up to the heads and said, " Ho I ho I some of my soldiers are up there, set in array. It is the best place for the rascals." He survived the trial many years, and died in his bed at last; but his memory is held, even yet, in the deepest execration in that part of the coun try. Of this there was a curious instance not more than twelve or fourteen yean ago. A gentleman living in the neighborhood, some distance from Cork, had several servants. One of them was a very nice young girl, named Duggan, a far away cousin of the horrible Mal ids). Theie was a dis pute about some trifling matter, and one of the other servants said to Duggan, " We shall really, miss, be obliged to call you Malachi." The poor girl did not answer a word, but that very evening left her place and set off to walk home to Cork, a distance of five-and-twenty miles, BO disgraceful was the imputation of belonging ever remotely to the treacherous informer. AN ENGLISHWOJJAN'S STORY. " My father was ft merchant, snd owned many ships. He sent them to the AVest Indies, the East Indies, and sometimes to China. I loved the sea and the ships. My father used to allow me to go on board with him when they were about to sail, or had come in from long voyages. I sometimes took such little presents on board as sailors like, and they said I would give them a lucky voyage. They did. not forget me, and brought me many a nice present from beyond the seas. " One day we visited a new ship, and fonnd a new captain, whom I had never seen before. I thought him very handsome, but young for such a trust; bnt I found that he was good and honor able. He had been in the royal navy. A great misfortune to hie family had made it necessary for him to leave the service and accept the higher pay of a merchantman. After one or two voyages we became acquainted, and he came to love me better than all the world. " But my f ither did not love him so well as an other person did—at least, he did not wish me to love him. It was only in the intervals of long voyages that I saw him, and when the time for his arrival drew near; and the ship, for me so rich ly freighted, was dne, I spent many hours In the observatory on the top of our house, sweeping the line of the horizon with a long spy-glass, and watching for the* little signal flag that I alone knew of, and that would teU me HE was coming. "One day this brave, good captain, who had won my heart, asked my father for my hand. He could have nothing against him. There conld not be a better or braver man. He was nobility it self; but I was my father's pet and pride, and he was ambitious. I think" nothing less than a lord would then have satisfied him for a son-in-law. "Captain Wolter came and told me, with some bitterness, the result of his interview with my fa ther. I knew that he wns poor, but I knew that this was the only reasonable objection that, could be made to him, and-1 laid my hand in hie—a strong, manly hand—strong anil true, and I said, ' Be patient: I am yours, anil I will never be any one's but yonrs while this world stands.' " He went away upon a long voyage, and a very important one, for my father liked him as a captain of his ship, and knew well that lie could trust him to the last drop of his blood to protect ship and cargo. " When he came home next time I had reflected much, and determined upon what I ought to do. I did not wait for him to come and see me. I did not wait for him to ask me to do any thing. I knew that he could not while he was my father's captain. So I went to the ship, and said: ' Cap tain Walter, will you leave this all to me, to do as I think right?' • " He only held me to bis big heart a moment, but he looked a thousand yeses out of his hand some, loving eyes. " The day his ship was to sail on her next voy age I sent my trunks on board the ship. Then I found my captain, and said: ' Come with me and redeem your promise, and I will keep mine.' We went to a church, a license was ready, and we were married. The ship was ready to sail, and I knew that my father was on board te give hie last direc tions, and see her off. I went on board with my husband, and my father was not surprised, for I had often sailed ont with him, and returned in the pilot-boat. " When the ship had got a good offing, and the pilot was ready to take us back, my father said his last words to the captain, and shook hands, wishing him a good voyage. 'Come, darling,' said he to me: 'say good-by to Captain Walter, for we must go now.' • " ' Dear father,' said I,' forgive your darling; I can not go with you now. I must sail this voyage with MY HUSBAND, Captain Walter!' "He looked from one to the other to see if this were jest or earnest. '"Father dear,' said I, 'you could never have found ma so good a husband. So I took him this morning, and made him marry me, and here is the certificate that I am hie wife.' "Poor father! He turned very pale, but he loved me, and there was no help. He held me in his arms and kissed me, while his tears ran over my cheeks. At last he held out his hand to my brave captain in token of forgiveness. He went home alone in the pilot-boat. ''The shores of England faded from our sight, and we were on the open sea. We had fair winds and foul, stiff galee and gentle breezes, and I be came a sailor. We crossed the line, doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and sailed on weeks and weeks through the Indian seas to Batavia, and then to Canton. When our cargo was completed we sail ed homeward again. "One day, as we were reaching our northern latitudes, my captain came hastily into the cabin to get his spy-glass, and I followed him on deck. There was a vessel in sight bearing down directly for us. She had changed her course since we first saw her, and it was evident she meant to come near us. " My captain took a long look at her. «Well ?' said I, standing at his elbow, and taking the glass from his hand. "' You have good eyes, darling,' said he, ' see what you can make of her.' " I adjusted the glass to my eye, and looked in tently. 'It is an armed vessel,' said I. 'I see ports, and a large gun amidships.' " TTou are quite correct—as usual,' said my cap tain. "' But she does not look like a man-of-war,' said I, ' and I do not think she is English.' "' No more is she,' said he. ' Either war has been declared, and she is a privateer, or she is a cursed pirate.' " I was never a coward. I held the glass stead ily in my hands, and watched the brig as she bore down with all sail set, and it was evident that she was a good sailer. There had been talk of war before we left England, bnt my father did not be lieve in it. I shuddered at the idea of its being a pirate. "' Whatever she may be,' said my captain,' she has no business with ns. I shall give her a try at all events.' So we tacked ship, and stood off in the contrary direction from that in which we had beeu sailing. The stranger bad tacked also before we were well on our course. In half an hour she had gained perceptibly. "' She can beat ns on a wind,' said my captain, looking very serious. 'There is nothing for ns but to show the cleanest pair of heels we can.' "Round we went to our best point of sailing; ont went the studding-sails, the cargo was shifted to give our ship the best possible trim, the sails were wet; bnt it was soon apparent that, after all we had done, the brig was gaining on us—slowly, indeed, but certainly gaining. "' A stern chase is a long chase, Calista, dar ling,' said my captain, cheerily; but I could see that he was not at all satisfied with the aspect of affairs. '"You know that I am not a coward,' said I; ' tell me just how it is.' '"I know your soul is bigger than your body, my darling,' said he. ' This rascally brig gains on ns. If we can have foul weather to-night,- we may change our course and lose sight of her. I see no other hope. We are not strong enough to fight her.' "' There are muskets and pistols in the cabin,' said I, ' and we have two cannons on deck.' "' Well enough to frighten savages, or beat off the Malay pirates; but that brig is well armed, and must have plenty of men, by the way they handle her. If she is a privateer, we must sur render. If a pirate, we must fight. Her Long Tom will make oven wood of us, but we must take our chance.' " We held on, praying for night, and storm, and dark ness. The full moon rode high in the heavens, and silvered the waves through which our good ship plowed gallantly. Nearer and nearer came our pursuer. Once the wind freshened, and we seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it soon fell off again, and the brig crept nearer and nearer. Few slept. By the full morning light there lay the handsome brig, full over onr taffrail, bounding along with a bone in her mouth. My brave hus band walked the deck in sore trouble. He had made the best possible preparations for defense, the crew were ready to obey his orders, but the case was hopeless. " As the light increased I watched the brig close ly through the glass, trying to ascertain the char acter of our pursuer. A flag of stars and stripes went up to her mast-bead, and the smoke of a can non curled np from her deck. It was the first sig nal. The commander of the brig was in the field of my glass and my worst fears were dispelled. " ' Look!' said I to my husband, giving him the glass; ' that man is not a pirate.' " I could not be mistaken. He was a fine-look ing man of thirty-five or forty, in au undress naval uniform. His bearing was manly, and his face, when I got a look at it, was clear and open. My captain took the gloss and gave an anxious look. "' I believe you ar« right, my darling,' said he. •The man is no pirate. Then it is war, and we shall goon be his prisoners. It is a hard case, but there is no help for it.' '"Do not be cast down my brave captain,' said I; ' father has more shit j, and he can deduct this one from my portion.' ^ "Just then another shot from the long^in came alongside, and showed that we were within point blank range. The order was given to take in sail, and we waited for the brig to come np. As she came on, dashing gallantly through the waves, jiy captain took his trumpet and hailed her. The hail was courteously responded to. It was a Yankee privateer demanding our surrender. "' Oh for a tier of guns, and half a chance at him!' exclaimed my captain; hnt the disparity of force was too overwhelming. In answer to the qnestion, he gave the name of our good ship and his own. " Then I, who was watching the deck of the ene my still through the glass, though we were now so near, saw a strange movement. The captain of the brig suddenly put np his gloss, which he had turned on my husband. Then he appeared to give some order to his lientenant who was preparin. 10 board us, and soon sprang into the boat hiiuneif, and came on board of ns. " He was received with a not very cheerful po liteness, but his manner, as he stepped upon our deck, justified the opinion I had formed of him. He raised his hat to me with a graceful bow, and my husband invited him to enter our cabin, which he did with every courtesy. Wine and other re- Creshments were hrougbt out in plenty, and the stranger told ns of the outbreak of the war with America, and also of other events which were news to as at that time. "Were we prisoners? Was this our captor, quietly conversing with ns, and courteously drink ing to our prosperity ? He looked at me attentive ly, when my eyea were turned away, and I thought I saw a strange smile upon his face. " My husband opened a locker, and taking out the ship's papers, laid them on the table with a heavy heart; but be would not show it, and osid with an air of assumed cheerfulness: '"It is the fortune of war. My ship is your prize, captain, and since I must surrender her, I am glad it is to a gentleman. Where do you pro pose to send as ?' "The stranger moved into the light, brushed back the curls of bis dark hair, and turning to my husband, said: "' Is it possible, Captain Walter, that yon do not know me ? Have you forgotten a msn whose life you saved, and who owes you so much ?' "My husband looked earnestly at him a mo ment, then grasped his hand, and said: "'Hardy I Frank Hardy I is it resllv you ?' '"Yes, old fellow,' said he, 'it is'really me, with a better memory than you have, who saved my life at the risk of your own. And this is your wife? I congratulate you—I congratulate you both with all my heart. Madam, he took me off a wreck, where every man but me had perished. Thank God! I can ehow that I am not ungrateful. I shall appoint you prize-master, and you shall take your ship, please God I into her own harbor.' "' But can you do this safely, Frank ?' asked my captain. "' Safely!' His lip cnrled. ' I would like to see the danger I would not confront for you, old fellow. If I were a naval officer, it would ba • different matter, but a privateer has some discre tion. My pretty brig is my own. The war is an ugly business, but you know me of old—we are "enemies in war, in peace* friends," all but yon, old fellow—I am your friend always, as you know.' "' And how will your crew stand the loss of their share of prize-money ?' asked my captain. "' They are pretty likely to stand what I re quire them to, 1 said the Yankee, proudly. ' But I can make it all right for them. Prizes are [not very scarce articles. Here, give me the papers 1 Who is your owner ?V "'My father,'said I. " 'All right, Madam,' said he, bowing, 'I wish to make you a small present.' • "' If you wish to do me a favor,' said I, 'moke your present to my husband.' " He smiled, as he looked from one to the other, and seemed to nndentand the stste of the cose iu an instant. "'You are qnite right, Madam,' said hs; 'it shall be as yon desire.' "Then he indorsed the ship's manifest wltb the fact of her capture, and be made over ship and. cargo to Captain Walter. It was not a legal docu ment, of course, but it had its weight with my father. " Our captor took his leave with such stores as we could get him to accept. His boat's crew looked at them wonderingly as they were passed over the side to them, and even still more wonder- ijjply at the manner in which their captaiu took his leave of us. " In a week more we were safe in an English harbor and on English ground. The war lasted two or three years, and many prizes were takeu on both sides, and some hard battles fought by land and sea, but I never heard that any ship ever escaped as we did." itr
Page 1 and 2: RISING SU fl P-^ W ^IF1 */^ ^ ***«
Page 3 and 4: 634 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 4, 18
Page 5 and 6: 638 HAEPEB'S WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 4,186
Page 9 and 10: 646 HAEPEE'S WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 11,18
Page 11 and 12: «[WILLLIMSPORr WASHINGTON COUNTY,M
Page 13 and 14: 654 HAEPEKS WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 11, 18
Page 15 and 16: •i» 658 HARPER'S WEEKLY. MAJOR-G
Page 17: CC2 HARPEH'S WEEKLY. [OCTOBEK 18, 1
Page 21 and 22: 670 HAKPER'S WEEKLY/ [OCTOBER 18,18
Page 23 and 24: HAKPEK'S WEEKLY. AT SOUTH MOUNTAIN.
Page 25 and 26: CO ? "Vl^/v W ^f^MAXW* Mooafriaf **
Page 29 and 30: 686 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [OCTOBER 25,18
Page 31 and 32: 090 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 1,18
Page 33 and 34: [NOVEMBEB 1, 1862. NOVEMBER 1, 1862
Page 35 and 36: 698 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 1, 1
Page 37 and 38: 702 HARPER'S WEEKLY, [NOVEMBER 1, 1
Page 39 and 40: 11 706 HAEPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 8
Page 41 and 42: 710 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBEB 8, 1
Page 43 and 44: 714 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 8, 1
Page 45 and 46: 71R HARPEK'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 8, 1
Page 47 and 48: 722 HAEPEE'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 15,
Page 49 and 50: 726 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 15,
Page 57 and 58: 742 THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC-GENERAL
Page 59 and 60: (46 HAKPEKS WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER 22, 1
Page 62 and 63: •'Now, Boys, rub out! ADVERTISKME
Page 66 and 67: 760 HARPER'S WEEKLY 7G1 GENERAL M'C
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764 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBEH 29,
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1(11 7G8 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [NOVEMBER
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IN «O CO iv av3dav TiLti 3HS sv ,,
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776 HARPER'S WEEKLY. 777 .— [S ee
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HAHPER-S WEEKLY. MAP OF RICHMOND, V
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•H HARPER'S WEEKLY. OLD MB. SECES
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'' ll"' I. ll HARPER'S WEEKLY. I DE
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to ffl S CO
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796 HABPEB'S WEEKLY. [DECEMBER 13,1
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POO JOHN BULL. JOHN. "All right, ME
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t) 00 \ \ DAVIS MILLS, ON THE MISSI
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808 HAMPER'S WEEKLY. 809 FREDERICKS
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812 HAKPER'S WEEKLY. [DECEMBER 20,
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81G HARPER'S WEEKLY. [DECEMUEK 20,
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820 . HARPER'S WEEKLY. [DECEMBER 27
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824 WEEKLY. 826 A BATTLE AS SEEN BY
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828 HARPER'S WEEKLY. [t)ECEMBER 27,
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HHI I I!. 882 HAEPER'S WEEKLY. [DEC
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